


Nice Guy

by 50251sid



Category: Borgias - Ambiguous Fandom, The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brother-Sister Relationships, Domineering Sibling, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Respectful Dating, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 23:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50251sid/pseuds/50251sid
Summary: Alfonso finds his efforts at winning Lucrezia's affection are hampered by her domineering older brother





	Nice Guy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cool_cbear_g](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cool_cbear_g/gifts).



* * *

Prologue

_Two ladies “of a certain age” were lunching together, seated at a small round sidewalk café table, leaning in towards each other over their salad plates._

_“You know,” Vera remarked, setting down her fork, “The other day, I heard a young man say that he was unlucky in love because women didn’t want ‘nice guys.’  To which I replied that if that had been his experience, he was dating the wrong women, because a ‘nice guy’ was precisely what most women wanted.”_

_“My dear, you are so right,” Eloise replied.  “Why, if you were to ask a group of women, any group of women, the kind of man they were looking for, ninety-nine out of a hundred would say just that.  A ‘nice guy.’”_

 

Alfonso Bisceglie cannot believe his good fortune. 

Lucrezia Borgia, the most beautiful, most popular, most desirable girl in the entire high school—the entire _world_ —has been going out with him.    

Him.  Alfonso Bisceglie.  Shy, ordinary, well-meaning but awkward doofus, Alfonso Bisceglie.  When he asked her why she was willing to date him, she laughed lightly and replied that he was sweet and kind.  A nice guy.

Still, everyone says what a cute couple they make:  young and fresh and a pretty contrast from each other.  Alfonso is rather short and slight of build, with curly black hair, smooth olive skin and boyish features.  Lucrezia is exquisite, petite and delicate-looking with porcelain skin and large, blue-grey eyes that are clear as a mountain stream.  She has full pink lips that stretch into a smile that turns him to quivering jelly when he is fortunate enough to win that mark of her favor.

Nervous but emboldened by the fact that they have been seeing each other for three whole months now, Alfonso plans a Very Special Occasion for this Saturday evening in July.  He has spent the day washing and vacuuming his father’s Torch Red antique Ford Thunderbird, shining his dress shoes and picking up his sport coat and best trousers from the dry cleaner.  He has made reservations at a lovely restaurant situated far out of the city, in a quiet, wooded, private and romantic setting.

 

Lucrezia Borgia prepares for her date with Alfonso Bisceglie.  He has excitedly told her that this evening will be a “very special one,” and, as she lathers her hair in the shower, she idly wonders what he means by “special.” 

_Oh, Alfonso!_

Everything for him is such a big fat deal. 

Still, he is nice to her.  Always brings her sweet little gifts—chocolate roses, butterfly hair clips, stuffed animals.  Opens doors for her.  Compliments her on her clothes and her hair and her dancing ability.  The things she has always imagined a nice boyfriend would do. 

 _Is_ Alfonso her boyfriend?  Well, he sure seems to want to be, but Lucrezia doesn’t think it’s a good idea to let her brother Cesare know that. 

She sighs.

 _Cesare_.  He’d have a fit if he thought that Alfonso was anything to her other than a mild amusement, a pass-time, if he thought she had any feelings for the boy at all.

“You’re only sixteen,” he had snapped at her when she went out with Alfonso for the first time.  “You have no business dating anyone.”

Mother had told Cesare then to back off, but he remains an oppressive, disapproving black cloud over Lucrezia’s blossoming relationship with Alfonso.

 _Cesare_.  It saddens Lucrezia that her brother is so adamantly against her having any kind of social life apart from him.

 

Alfonso arrives to pick Lucrezia up precisely at 6:30 and knocks on the door.  Her father answers and admits him.

“Good evening, Mr. Borgia." Alfonso‘s greeting is nervous, respectful.

Mr. Borgia is tall and rangy with a deep, commanding voice and an air of inborn authority.  He scares Alfonso half to death.

“So where are you taking my daughter?”

“To a restaurant called “The Cross Keys.”  It’s a couple of hundred years old and used to be an inn on a highway.  It serves things like venison and pheasant.”

“Wild game?  Lucrezia isn’t going to like that.”

“There are other things on the menu as well, Sir.  It’s mostly admired for its ambiance, a wooded setting, very quiet, very private.”

“A former inn, you say?  Do they still rent rooms?  Because you wouldn’t dare to get any ideas, would you?  About my little girl?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Borgia.  Never.  Honestly.”

“I was your age once too.  I know how boys think.”

“Sir, I understand your concerns about Lucrezia.  Let me assure you that I honor her and respect her and would never do anything out of line.”

 “Well, see that you don’t.  Lucrezia will always be my little girl.”

“You’re a good father, Sir.  I hope to win your approval.”

 “We’ll see about that.”

Mr. Borgia harhumphs but extends his hand to Alfonso, who grasps it firmly and gratefully.

“I’ll take good care of your daughter, Mr. Borgia.  I realize she is someone very special and I will always treat her accordingly.”

Accompanied by her mother, Lucrezia enters the living room.  Alfonso’s eyes light up when he sees her, but he politely acknowledges the elder lady first.  Mrs. Borgia is a quietly stunning brunette in her early 40s, with radiant dark eyes and a sleek figure that is shown off by her chic polo top and matching slacks.  With a dazzling smile, she offers her hand to Alfonso.

“Hello, Dear.”  Her acknowledgement is warm and kind.  “Lucrezia tells me you are taking her to the Cross Keys for dinner.  What a lovely place!”

Alfonso is surprised.

“You know of it?”

“Oh, yes.  I was there once or twice, awhile back.  Beautiful setting, deep in the woods.  You’ll like it, Lucrezia.”

“She’s not going to like the menu, Vannozza,” Mr. Borgia growls. “Road kill.”

Mrs. Borgia’s laugh is like the cooing of doves.

“Nonsense, Rodrigo.  Beautifully prepared wild game.”

Lucrezia speaks for the first time.  She is dressed in a casually elegant Little Black Dress and flat black sandals which highlight her small feet, her toenails painted with soft pink polish.  Her radiant blonde hair is done up in a charming little knot like a ballet dancer.  Her earlobes sparkle with flawless diamond stud earrings, one carat in each ear, a birthday gift from her brother.

“Oh, I don’t know, Mommy.  I don’t think I could eat that.”

“They have regular things too, Lucrezia,” Alfonso hastens to reassure her.  “Not just game.  I wouldn’t dream of taking you anywhere you’d be unhappy."

The young couple makes their departure.  With his hand lightly touching the small of her back, Alfonso escorts Lucrezia to the car. He opens the door for her and settles her into the passenger seat, reminding her to buckle her seat belt.  He gets behind the wheel and adjusts the rear view mirror before he turns to the beautiful girl beside him.

“Are you comfortable?  Should I turn the air conditioning on?  It’s a hot night.”

Lucrezia scrunches in her seat.

“Yes, please.  I’m too warm.”

“Whatever you want.  You have only to tell me and it’s yours.”

He smiles at her winningly, sincerely.  When cold air begins to blast from the dashboard vents, he takes care to ask her to let him know if she becomes too chilled.

As they drive off, Alfonso notes that Lucrezia’s father is standing at the window, watching them depart.

 

Alfonso parks the car as close to the entrance as he can get and then goes around to open the door for Lucrezia, extending his hand to help her get out. 

_She is so beautiful, so mesmerizingly beautiful._

 

Built in 1795, the Cross Keys had served as an inn for travelers along a rudimentary highway between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh in the early days of the United States.  Still nestled among a forest of ancient oak trees, it is now an upscale restaurant providing an elegant ambiance and meticulously presented cuisine to discerning diners.

As a dinner-jacketed musician softly plays pleasant melodies on a highly polished grand piano, the hostess leads the couple to their table, richly appointed with heavy damask linens and decorated with a floral arrangement of subtly color-coordinated blooms.  Alfonso helps Lucrezia into her chair and takes his seat across from her.  She studies the menu, wrinkling her dainty nose at the offerings:  elk medallions, wild duck, rabbit with mushroom sauce.  Although Alfonso would like to try the Cross Keys’ specialty dish, venison with juniper berries, he is reluctant to order it lest Lucrezia get upset.  He keeps peeking anxiously over his menu, watching her reaction to the dishes listed on the bill of fare.

“I’m sorry, Alfonso,” she states plaintively. “I know you picked this restaurant especially for me, but I don’t think I can eat any of this.  When someone wants me to try something odd, they always say ‘Eat this; it tastes like chicken,’ but, in that case, I’d rather just have chicken.”

“Don’t be sorry, Lucrezia.  I wanted us to come here for the atmosphere, not necessarily the food.  If you look, you’ll see chicken on the menu, as well as other dishes you may enjoy.  I hope you like the appearance of the place, though.”

“Oh, I do.  It’s so quaint and rustic and woodsy.  The setting is beautiful.”

Alfonso sighs with relief that Lucrezia is at least pleased at the locale.  She orders, unsurprisingly, chicken.  He decides to play it safe and asks for prime rib.

_Maybe next time, he thinks, I’ll order the venison.  Now that Lucrezia has seen the place and the ice is broken, so to speak, she may be a bit more amenable to something new._

Their meals, served with quiet efficiency, taste superb.  Lucrezia takes a tentative bite of her chicken and pronounces it delicious.  Alfonso relaxes visibly and begins to dig into his own dinner.  As they converse amiably, he becomes more and more confident of his intentions for this Very Special Occasion.

 

It is when he and Lucrezia are served cappuccinos which the barista has topped with white-foam heart designs that he feels that now is the moment.  He surreptitiously reaches into his pocket and then leans in very closely to her.

“Lucrezia,” he begins and clears his throat and begins again. “Lucrezia, we’ve been dating for a few months now and I still have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming that you’re with me. You’re the most incredible girl I’ve ever met.  I hope you know how much I care for you, and I hope you may have come to care for me too, a little.”

He places on the table what he has extracted from his pocket: a small jewelry box.  Holding his breath, he watches her face as he opens the case.  Lucrezia’s eyes light up with surprise and delight as she beholds a platinum ring with one very fine, cabochon cut sapphire.

 “This ring is an heirloom.”  In his eagerness, Alfonso’s words tumble over each other as he blurts, “It’s been in the family for generations.  My great grandfather gave it to his wife back in Italy and she wore it on the ship when they came to America. Then their son, my grandfather, gave it to his bride, my grandmother, and then my father to my mother.  I’d be so proud and happy if you’d wear it.  Say you will, Lucrezia.  Say you’ll be my girl.”

“Oh, Alfonso!”  Lucrezia brings her hand to her mouth in amazement. “Your family’s ring.  I’m honored.”

She allows him to slip the jewel onto her finger and then admires it.

“It’s beautiful, Alfonso.”

“You are beautiful, Lucrezia.”

He is lightheaded with excitement and joy.  Lucrezia has consented to be his girl.  She will wear his ring and everyone will know that she belongs to him now. 

 

Lucrezia’s phone suddenly begins to resonate with “The Imperial March” from _“Star Wars.”_

“That’s my brother Cesare.  I have to take it.”

Alfonso watches Lucrezia’s facial expression morph as she speaks to her brother, going from an assured, poised, confident young woman to a meek and diffident child.

“But, Cesare…” she begins several times, and Alfonso can tell that she is being completely overridden by the young man on the other end of the line.

She ends the call and sighs.

“I’m so sorry, Alfonso.  I have to leave.  Right now.  Cesare says I’m needed at home.  Something has come up.  A family emergency.  He’s coming to get me.”

“But I can drive you home.  We’re far out of town.  It will be at least an hour until he gets here.”

“Oh, he’s only about five minutes away.  He told me to go wait outside.”

“But how did he know you’d be needed?”

Lucrezia shrugs.

“He’s like that.  He always seems to be right there whenever things concern me.”

Lucrezia picks up her Chanel bag and accepts Alfonso’s hand to help her up from her chair.

Leaving the cool restaurant and stepping out into the sultry night air feels like slamming into a wall.

Lucrezia points to the far end of the parking area

“He’s over there, Alfonso.  Waiting for me.”

_‘How could Cesare have anticipated a family emergency?’  Alfonso silently fumes.  ‘He made it all up, to mess with our evening, get her away from me.  Well, now that she’s my girl, maybe she won’t let him dominate her like he always has.  She’ll gravitate more towards me.’_

 

Cesare’s black BMW is sitting well away from the restaurant, partly hidden by overhanging tree limbs, with him looming, a shadowy, ominous shape at the wheel, his long arm stretched out over the headrest of the passenger seat.  The instrument panel throws a garish light over the lower part of his face.  His eyes, hooded in darkness, glow a deep feral green like those of a panther crouching silently on a high branch as an unsuspecting deer passes below.

Alfonso smiles nervously. 

“Hello, Cesare.  Glad to see you.”

Cesare neither acknowledges his greeting nor replies. 

Alfonso helps Lucrezia into the passenger side, leaning in and kissing her cheek before shutting the door.

“Be sure to buckle your seat belt,” he gently admonishes her. “I’ll call you tomorrow.  Good night, Cesare.  Drive carefully.”

Alfonso is barely out of sight when Lucrezia turns to her brother and excitedly shows him her ring. 

“Look, Cesare.  Alfonso asked me to go steady with…” 

Her words are abruptly cut off when Cesare grabs her arm and yanks her against his chest, devouring her mouth in a hot, insistent kiss, his tongue pushing between her lips while his hand thrusts beneath her skirt and slides along the smooth flesh of her thigh.  He is strong, relentless, when he pushes her legs apart.  She tenses when she feels the fabric of her panties rip under the assault of his determined fingers as they seek her gateway.  She wants to exclaim, to say something, but he keeps her silenced with the irresistible pressure of his mouth on hers. 

He leans his torso heavily on her, his hard, muscular chest pressing against her, pinning her to the seat as his fingers capture her clitoris.  Feeling her mouth yield beneath his, he pulls his head back and is gratified when he hears her sigh his name and she winds her arms around his neck. 

“I know what you want, Baby,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet purr in her ear. “Don’t I always?”

With a confident surety, he caresses her perfect, pink bud with his thumb while he slips first one, then two fingers inside of her vault, gone wet and slick for him.  She moans and pushes her pelvis hard against his hand, grasping his shoulders, begging him to make her come.

He presses his lips to her throat and sucks the tender flesh, all the while stroking her pussy with his demanding fingers.  Her breathing quickens; she begins to gasp tiny, sharp cries and then goes rigid against him, grabbing handfuls of his hair and arching her belly against his, catching his hand between the two of them. 

He laughs then, low and triumphant.

 

Bedazzled, besotted, Lucrezia slumps against the passenger seat and regards Cesare, his nostrils flared arrogantly, his beautiful bow-shaped mouth set in a smug grin as he withdraws his hand from under her skirt.

“Dump him,” he snarls.

“What?” she asks softly. “What did you say?”

“Dump that loser.”

He holds out his palm.  She slips Alfonso’s ring off her finger and lays it in Cesare’s hand.  He half-turns and flicks the ring out the window and then faces her full on again, capturing her in his arms and kissing her.

“You’re mine, Baby,” he says. “You know that.”

Her lips curve into a smile as he starts the car and peels out onto the highway.

“Yes, Cesare,” she whispers. “I know that.”


End file.
